Interruptions
by SmellsLikeTeenSpirt
Summary: Someone walks in on Thorin and Bilbo having sex on the throne.


The heavy doors of the throne room closed behind the last of Thorin's council with a resounding clang that reverberated around the cavernous hall. No longer having to refrain, Thorin leaned back in his throne and let out a defeated sigh. Once again the council meeting had dragged on and Thorin was getting sick of it. It had been like this for weeks and though Erebor was once again thriving, it seemed that the list of problems just kept on coming.

If it wasn't trade disputes or arguments over housing, it was a flurry of complaints from miners who were unsatisfied with the conditions of the deepest caverns and were seeking compensation for the extra labour that would be required to ensure the stability of the mines. It had become so tedious that the King had resigned himself to simply nodding in what seemed like appropriate intervals and humming with he found all eyes were on him. Quite an easy fasçade to get away when he had Balin at his side. He could trust his adviser to give him a nudge if his attention was imminent or if he unknowingly agreed to renounce his throne to Thranduil but until then Thorin was happy to let his mind wander to other things.

More specifically, Bilbo.

Himself and his husband had been having less and less time in each others presence as of late. It had become less frequent that Bilbo would accompany him to council meetings as the Hobbit would be whisked away to carry out his own duties that more often then not consisted of piles upon piles of paperwork or tedious treaties that Thorin would later have to give his final word on. It was this distinct lack of his Hobbit that made Thorin all the more irate. Pinching the bridge of his nose Thorin slumped further down into the throne and lost himself in his thoughts, so much so that he was only pulled from his reprieve by the sound of the large doors opening with heavy clank.

He closed his eyes tightly and cursed under his breath. With his patience wearing thin enough as it is, Thorin absolutely did not need any more of his councils voices droning on in his ear about pointless disputes. Honestly, he didn't understand _why _he was required at every single meeting when most of the time they were filled with nothing but menial topics and debates that could easily be handed to him at the end of each day in a report by Balin. That way, he could use the time he would have spent cooped up in the throne room in a more productive manner.

Like buggering his Hobbit senseless.

"My council has been dismissed for the remainder of the day and if you value your beard you will leave me in peace." Propriety be dammed, Thorin was sick and tired of confounded council members and was most defiantly not in the mood for entertaining and his tone left no room for argument, but of all the responses he anticipated an amused snort was not one of them. Who had a nerve to-

"Leave you to brood is more like it."

Thorin's head snapped forward at that. "And I think you'll find, that I have no beard to be valued."

He would know that voice anywhere and he gave a snort of his own in response. He should of known that Bilbo would be the only one with the gall to march into the throne room unannounced and speak to him in such a way. Finally meeting his husbands eyes from where he stood on the lowest step leading up to his throne, Thorin raised a thick brow at the sight that greeted him. And what a rare sight it was indeed.

Bilbo, stood with arms folded across his chest, crown nestled among his mop of honey blond curls and wearing the finest of his official royal garments. The robes were made up by a deep red tunic and matching trousers with designs spun from the finest threads of gold to make repetitive, geometric patterns depicting the symbol of the House of Durin which encrusted the neckline and hem of each sleeve. The trousers were cut much the same as Bilbo's own, falling little more then halfway down his calf so that his Hobbit heritage was not completely buried under the layers of thick Dwarvish material. A long sleeveless robe hung around his small shoulders and was kept in place with the aide golden clasp connected to each side by a light chain that was almost invisible among the intricate designs that decorated his front.

Thorin felt as the breath had been knocked out of him. Bilbo rarely adorned his full royal regalia and even when he did, the Hobbit did not do so without a fuss (even with the knowledge of how hot and bothered he could make Thorin when he did) so it was with this in mind that Thorin decided to entertain his husband by sitting up straight in his throne and raising a regal brow.

"I do not brood."

The Hobbit only smirked and made his way up the steps. "I must say your Majesty, that I am terribly offended."

"Oh?"

"Indeed. You have not even asked me what my business was." Bilbo tutted. "Terribly rude of you."

The King only smirked in response and rose from his throne. "If we are to speak of decorum, my Hobbit, then I too have my own complaints." With every step he took closer to his Consort he could see the mischief burning in those hazel eyes. "I think you will find that it was you who marched into _my_ throne room. And unannounced no less!" Thorin shook his head in mock disappointment. "I would have expected such lack of courtesy from a lesser Hobbit."

"Are you calling me rude? Because I will have you know," He runs his hands through Thorin's dark tresses. "That we Bagginses are a terribly respectable bunch."

"Respectable? My dear Hobbit, I hardy think that the things you get up to in our nightly play could be deemed anyway respectable." The King chuckled under his breath at the look his Hobbit was giving him. He leaned down to take the sensitive tip of his husbands ear between his teeth before whispering; "In fact, hearing the sounds you made as you writhed beneath me during our last coupling I believe that I've fucked the respectability right out of you."Bilbo's breath hitched at both the sensation and the filth that was coming from his husbands mouth and in that moment the Hobbit hungers for him in the way Dwarves covet their gold or a dragon and their hoard. Taking fist fulls of Thorin's hair Bilbo begins to walk them backwards, a coy smile playing at his lips.

"Is that so?," The Hobbit peppers fluttering kisses up Thorin's throat and along his defined jawline. "If that is the case then you should have no qualms about taking right here. _Now._" Without warning Bilbo loops his arms around Thorin's neck to pull him down to his level and crashes their lips together in a bruising kiss that is all teeth and tongue. Thorin pulls away with a wet pop and wasting no time, moves his attentions to Bilbo's neck. He bites his way down and only stops to suck a bruise to the Hobbit's collar bone making the smaller creature moan.

Bilbo and sucks in a breath under his ministrations but continues to push Thorin backwards until the King's knees hit the back of the throne. He can feel Thorin begin to fiddle blindly with the laces of his trousers and uses his husbands moment of distraction to push him back into the throne with unexpected force for such a small being.

Thorin lands. _Hard._

"Ghivashel," Thorin grunts out as Bilbo climbs onto his lap. "We should not do this here. Anyone-" Bilbo sighed and gave his bottom lip a nip.

"Shh!"

Another sloppy kiss was all it took to silence Thorin, the only sounds that filled the hall were that of passion starved kisses and the sounds of laces hastily being undone. Thorin panted as he watched Bilbo's nimble fingers working at his trousers with practiced ease and was only now realizing how painfully uncomfortable they had become since he laid eyes on Bilbo in that thrice dammed outfit.

As much as he loved seeing his Hobbit adorned in the fine fabrics and jewellery (his personal favourite, the golden anklet that wound it's way up the Hobbit's calf, stopping just before the hem of his trousers.) in this moment he wanted nothing more then to tear them straight off. And so he followed his husbands lead and began do undo Bilbo's own fastenings. Both let out twin grunts of satisfaction as the pressure of their clothed erections alleviated and Bilbo sets to work on Thorin's throat again. Thorin absently wonders what else his Hobbit could do with that clever mouth of his but then all coherent thought is ripped from his mind as Bilbo wraps his legs tightly around Thorin's waist and starts up a slow but firm rocking motion.

"Gods Bilbo." Was all Thorin could pant out against Bilbo's shoulder, running his hand down Bilbo's spine to give his arse a firm squeeze. This time it was Bilbo's turn to moan, the Hobbit's voice sounding positively wrecked.

"Oh, you do moan so prettily for me ghivashel. I wonder what other sounds can I drag from that wicked mouth of yours?" His hands make the journey back up Bilbo's body, running them through the soft, downy curls and over a pale cheek until the Hobbit turns his head and greedily takes the offered appendages into his mouth. "If I didn't know better I would say you are trying to finish me off right this second, ghivashel." Thorin watched, enthralled as the Hobbit bathed the fingers in his mouth, running his tongue up and down until the saliva was threatening to spill out from the sides of his mouth.

Once satisfied, Thorin pulled his fingers from his husbands mouth and watched the trail of saliva that connected the two in aroused rapture. Slowly, his hand made it's way down and gently prodded at Bilbo's puckered entrance. One finger fit with little resistance but it did earn him a pleased moan from the Hobbit astride his lap, who continued his rocking motions. The first finger was followed quickly by a second and Thorin wasted no time in stretching his Hobbit open. He alternated between scissoring his fingers and moving them in wide circular motions to ensure this would be comfortable for his much smaller husband.

"I—_oh_."

Bilbo groaned as he rocked himself back onto Thorin's hand and the Hobbit shivered as his husband crooked his fingers inside of him, barely but not quite grazing that spot inside that would have him seeing stars. Before long, Thorin was three fingers deep into his husband and both were becoming impatient.

"Thorin, _guhh_,_" _The Hobbit panted, grappling for purchase on Thorin's broad shoulders. "Please, _now_!"

"Are you certain? I do not wish to hur-"

He was cut off by a sharp glare from the Hobbit. "I swear to the Valar, Thorin Oakenshield if you do not fuck me right now you will be_ lucky_ if I ever agree to give you another hand-job in your life, let alone anything else!"

Thorin chuckled knowing the Hobbits' threat was an empty one. "As you wish."

Bilbo grips the fur trim of Thorin's rich, royal blue robes, his knuckles turning white and his breathing strained as Thorin slowly pushes inside him. The Hobbit sucks in a sharp breath and if Thorin is speaking, it is lost on him as he can hear nothing over the roaring in his ears as he processes the feeling of being so _completely_ and _wonderfully _full. Thorin's hands run over his sides but they do nothing to quell the flames of _pure want_ that burn low in his stomach.

"Move." Bilbo breaths.

And that was all it took. Thorin didn't realize that he had been waiting for a command but once that simple word slipped past his husbands lips, his restraint snapped, his hips snapped forward and he began a punishing pace.

The pleasure that had already racked Bilbo's body completely intensified so quickly that the Hobbit had to grit his teeth and will away his release or this would all be over embarrassingly soon. Getting accustomed to the rhythm Thorin had set Bilbo began to move his own hips experimentally, pushing down on each of Thorin's upwards thrusts. The moan that left Thorin's throat was so positively debauched that the Hobbit found himself smirking against the King's neck.

"My, my your Majesty," he tuts, his breath hot at Thorin's ear. "Quite the predicament you have gotten yourself in. Who knew," he mewls at a rather well aimed thrust. "That the mighty King of Erebor could be brought to his knees by a Hobbit."

Thorin growls deep in his throat and with the feral snarl, he slams his hips forward eliciting a broken scream from the Hobbit.

"You were saying, love?"

All Bilbo can manage in reply is a high whimper and broken pleas for_ faster_ and _harder_. Pleas that the King is all to happy to oblige.

Their punishing pace continued for what felt like and could have easily been hours, the pair closed of to the rest of the world and only having eyes for each other. They didn't hear the heavy thud of boots on hard stone floors or the jaunty, tuneless whistle that echoed around the cavernous hall. So lost in the throes of pleasure the Royal couple were that they didn't even hear the sound of the heavy doors being opened with a loud, resounding thud.

"Oh ho! Thorin wait until you hear what I uncovered about that lot-"

It was in this moment that the Royal Spy master pulled his gaze up from where he was merrily twirling his favourite blade between crafty fingers and looked on in unabashed horror, his eyes glued on the sight before him. Mouth parted in nothing but pure adulterated shock Nori stared on, gaping like a fish as he struggled to find the right words to make his presence known. Luckily (or in Nori's opinion, rather unfortunately) soon it was all over and both lovers simultaneously tipped over the edge into ecstasy with matching cries on their lips. It was only when Thorin was slumped over Bilbo's shoulder trying to regain his breath was when he took notice of the gaping thief.

"Nori?" His question seemed to also pull the Hobbit out of his dreamy, blissed out haze long enough for him to turn slightly in Thorin's lap to chance a glance at Erebor's resident Spy Master.

"Nori, what are you doing here?" The casual manner of the Hobbit's tone was throwing Nori for a loop. He asked the question like he had just walked in on the Hobbit getting ready for afternoon tea or pruning his garden not fucking the King atop of the throne! He had been lead to believe that Bilbo (Bilbo!) of all people would have some shame but now looking at the Royal Consort with his thick honey blond curls matted with sweat and the evidence of their _activities _smeared across both his and Thorin's chests, Nori wanted to mentally slap himself.

Instead of answering, he simply turned around and walked away shaking his head in disbelief. And if he couldn't look at either Thorin or Bilbo for a fortnight, well, then, no one had to know why.


End file.
